Voldie's Relaxing Weekend
by Sundari Harmony
Summary: Will Voldemort ever be able to just relax?


Well well, here is my sad attempt at a comedy. sigh Never write fanfics at 4 in the morning.  
  
Disclaimer- JKR owns Voldie and his house, but the girl scout and pizza boy are mine grabs girl scout and pizza boy Oh yeah, Samara belongs to whoever wrote the ring, and the voice that says something belongs to taht movie that I cant remember .. sigh I need sleep.  
  
Rated- PG-13... it has some .. interesting things ... 

  
** Voldie's Relaxing Weekend**

  
Voldemort sat back in his large arm chair. He was in his father's old house. It may not have been his number one choice, but it was a place for him to relax. He had left one of his psycho death eaters in charge.  
  
"Oh what is his name? Malfred? Manny? Malferret? Oh hell, I don't know" Voldemort said to himself. He pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet.  
  
"Attacking beds, thestrals run amok, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes … Oh, I'll have to make a note to send that guy there to pick up a disappearing wand. I shall exchange it with Potter's and I will conquer the world! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT GUYS NAME?!" He wondered out loud. He ws just about to go in to a rant about renaming all of his followers to names of candies, but just then the phone rang. Voldemort reached over and picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Yes, May I please speak to a … Um … Mr. Voldamert?" the voice asked. Voldemort scowled.   
  
"No!" he shouted and slammed the phone down. He was getting ready to settle back in his chair when the phone rang again.  
  
"Hello?" Voldemort answered. He was hoping it was Quality Quidditch supplies; he wanted very badly to learn how to fly. There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" he asked again, annoyed. He heard heavy breathing, then a click. Voldemort shakily hung up the phone. Just as he put it down, it rang again.  
  
"What do you want?" Voldemort practically screamed. There was heavy breathing, then a voice answered him.  
  
"I know what you did last summer" the voice said.   
  
"NO! No one is supposed to know about that! I DID NOT HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH THAT SNAKE!" he slammed the receiver down. The phone rang again.  
  
"What the hell do you want?!" he screamed.   
  
"Um … May I please speak to a Mr. Tom Riddle?" a woman's voice asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice. He hung up the phone with out answering. He sat back in his chair, breathing in and out. _Anger management, anger management._ Just as he was calming down, the doorbell rang.  
  
"Who is it?" he called, not getting up.  
  
"Avon lady!" a cheery voice called.  
  
"Go away, I bought from you last week!" he called to her. She didn't say anything more, so he assumed she left. He settled back in his chair and picked up the paper again. The phone rang.   
  
"What?" he answered.  
  
"Is John Smith there?" the person asked.  
  
"No you idiot!" Voldemort said, and hung up the phone. Just after, the doorbell rang. Voldemort rose from his chair and pulled the door open. There was a little old lady standing before him. She looked slightly startled to see him, but didn't say anything. She was holding a tin can. Voldemort raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked her curiously.  
  
"Why yes, you can. I am collecting for a charity. It is for people with horrible diseases who may die."  
  
"You mean there are people dying on their own accord? BRILLIANT! Why would I donate to a charity when I know that there are people out there, helping me with my brilliant plan to take over the world?" he half said to himself, half to no body. He realized the old lady heard everything he said. "Erm, forget that" he said, closing the door on the very confused old lady. As he was walking back to his chair, the phone rang.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"7 days" a voice whispered, and then there was a click.  
  
"No! Samara shall not be the end of me!" Voldemort said, panicked. The doorbell rang again. It was a teenage boy, holding a box.  
  
"Like, did someone order a pizza?" the boy asked. Voldemort hadn't, but he was kind of hungry.  
  
"Yes, in fact I did" Voldemort replied. He walked to the desk in the hall and pulled out some muggle money. He walked back and handed it to the boy. Voldemort took the pizza.  
  
"Like, totally radical dude! Like, enjoy your pizza!" the boy said. Voldemort walked back over to his chair and placed the pizza on the table next to it. The phone rang.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Yes, Hello. Is your refrigerator running?" the person asked. Voldemort pondered this for a moment.  
  
"Why, as a matter of fact, yes." He replied.  
  
"Well you'd better go catch it!" _click._ Voldemort hung up the phone and was about to walk to the kitchen when the phone rang again.   
  
"What?"  
  
"'Ello, May I speak too a Mista Voldeimorter?" the voice asked lazily.  
  
"It's Voldemort, your future ruler! Get it right for when I make you bow down to me!" he responded angrily. He slammed down the receiver. The doorbell rang.  
  
"What is it this time?" He stormed to the door. He pulled it open, revealing a little girl. She smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"Would you like to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies?" she asked him. Just then the phone rang.  
  
"Sorry, I have to answer that" Voldemort said, closing the door. He walked back to his chair and answered his phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi sweetie! How have you been? I've been fantastic. Your aunt Ruth just called; she is doing fine, though she just had her beard waxed. I have to get 5 teeth pulled tomorrow, it's going to hurt. I wont be able to speak for 5 whole weeks. Scruffy died yesterday, it was sad. The funniest thing happened to me today, I was looking for my sock right? I looked on my floor, under my bed, every where possible! But then I realized that it had been on my foot the whole time! …" the person talked for another 15 minutes. She was talking a mile a minute, and Voldemort couldn't get a word in. Finally she paused to take a breath, and he spoke up.  
  
"Um, who the hell is this?" he asked.  
  
"Why, its your mother!" the voice said, startled. Voldemort shook his head.  
  
"My mother is dead, you crazy buffoon." He hung up the phone and buried his head in his hands. The phone rang again.  
  
"Hello?' he roared.  
  
"May I please speak to a Mr. Voldielord-Person?" Voldemort slammed the phone down.  
  
"I HATE TELEMARKETERS!" Just then the phone blew up, leaving a pile of dust. Voldemort settled back down in his chair and picked up the paper.  
  
"Good thing I didn't lose my cool" he said to himself, "I have to watch my blood pressure." He opened the paper to the comics section. You could hear him giggle occasionally, finally achieving his relaxing weekend. He turned to an inner page and saw wanted add for death eaters. He saw the man he left in charge.  
  
"What the hell is that guys name? Oh, Malfoy. What a stupid name. I shall dub him … Cucumber." And he continued back to re-read the comics.


End file.
